


Visions

by dirtylevi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Other, kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:12:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylevi/pseuds/dirtylevi
Summary: - The sadness and greif he felt as he peered into the glowing eyes of the other across from him matched the fear of them disappearing in his gut. His face remained as passive as ever, but emotion boiled over internally to the point of rising acidic bile in his throat as he leaned forward and rested his head against the cold slab of the desk.“Sleep. I’ll stay.”“You’re not even real.” He stated sharply. Reaching one hand out while placing the other under his head as a cushion.“Of course I am. You can see me, can’t you?”





	Visions

**Author's Note:**

> Small drabble between writing chapter 13 of P&P. Enjoy~!

Levi’s eyes always seemed to wander over his surroundings with a meticulous edge. Lids heavy over piercing irises as he scanned every inch of each environment he stepped into. Nothing ever seemed to slip past his vision. Even the dust particles that would float and dance in the light of the mid-morning sun were completely visible to him in shadow.

This was a skill he had honed in his earlier years. Always needing to be aware of what was behind him or who was around each corner in the darkness of the underground. Always wanting to avoid unnecessary attention and unwelcomed company as he would weave his way through damp back alleys and overcrowded walkways. Without a doubt, his hands were fine tools. Eleminating danger in a matter of seconds with a sharp slash of his shining blade before cleaning the mess left behind on his slender fingers.

However, he didn’t trust his hands. Lethal things coated in death and destruction. Only able to save a few while harming many. His hands moved as ordered and they served him well, but sometimes they would fail him and leave him grasping at cold air instead of something solid and warm. The lives of those dear to him have slipped through his fingers too many times for him to have faith in their truth. His eyes showed him possibilities and outcomes. They showed him what was and what could be, but a majority of the time, his hands would fail to deliver the proper results.

But his eyes…

His eyes were his veil. His way of masking himself into the low of society he had spent his entire life surrounded by. His way of blending into shadows and vast seas of people to hide his existence from those who would seek to end it. His eyes were his shield and his first line of defense. They never lied and they never failed him. He trusted his eyes. He believed in the images they painted for him, even if they were hard to process or even accept.

So, even now, as he stood in front of the mirror with his ghastly physical appearance being projected before him; he fully trusted what he saw. The bags under his eyes had become severe. A faint hue of red bleeding into the whites while the blue in his irises appeared dull and grey. Lifeless and sleep deprived from years of painting blood soaked images of his corpse ridden reality, only for his mind to process and use as haunts for his short lived dreams.

He looked like shit and there was no hiding it either.

He was much older now and it showed. The life he was leading showed, and the weight of the lives he carried to the grave showed. All of it was apparent in his eyes. A man who was exhausted, but strong. Lonely, but stable. Empty, but still alive. It was all there and staring back at him as he towel dried the scruff of his hair.

He needed to sleep, he determined. Setting the towel aside as he ran his fingers over the course hair coating his jaw.

His eyes were indeed windows, he surmised as he heaved a sigh at the reflective glass. Windows he desperately needed to shut if only for a couple of hours, but when he did, the images they had painted over the years would slide through his dreams like a moving picture. Replaying his darkest moments over and over again until his mind would scream at him to wake up. For him to open the windows and to let them paint more pictures for him to continuously relive.

Slowly, he rubbed his lids with the pads of his fingers. Pushing himself away from the mirror and out of the door frame of the washroom and into the soft candle glow of his quiet office. Looking at himself was hard. Seeing himself with the eyes he so trusted and having to accept that that was indeed how he currently appeared made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

He always made it a point to be presentable, but today he was just too tired to do so. Three days with no sleep and little to no food quickly took it’s toll, and his body was now at an age where he couldn’t outright hide his shitty sleeping habits, or lack thereof, with a clean shave, and a few cups of strong tea.

His hands moved back to his jaw. Scratching at the rough hairs he wasn’t used to wearing as he strode over towards his clean, hung up shirt, and laid out uniform boots. The nights were getting colder and longer and his health wasn’t in top form at this point. The last thing he needed was to get sick on top of his already piss poor condition.

“You look pretty rough.” A soft voice chimed. An echo Levi had long thought lost and a sound that made his heart clench in his chest.

“I know.” He answered firmly. Rounding his trustworthy eyes towards his office chair that was positioned behind him where a shadowed silhouette sat comfortably.

“You should sleep.” The voice resounded. The leather of his chair squeaking as the figure adjusted their body to face him more clearly.

“I know.” He responded again. His feet slowly stepping across the wood of the floor while his hands remained stock still at his hips.

The figure was a familiar one. One he hadn’t seen for quite some time and one he’d admittedly missed and cared for quite deeply. Still though, that didn’t negate the fact that they were sitting their precious ass in his office chair.

“Get your ass out of my chair.”

The figure laughed heartily. Standing up completely straight in one smooth, eerily quiet motion before moving around the desk and stepping into the dim light of a single flame that danced atop a mostly melted candle.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” Levi asked sharply. His tired eyes staying locked on the person in front of him while his body moved around them and toward his oak desk. Each of his steps precise and angled so not to cause a floorboard to squeak.

“I just… wanted to see you. That’s all.”

Levi let out a huff. Blinking his eyes a couple of times as he picked up a file from his desk with his clever fingers. Tapping the tip of his index against the paper sharply as he evened out his breathing and began moving toward the elegantly lit body in front of him.

“I wanted to see you too, but you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

“Then go.”

“Can’t we just tal-”

“No.”

Levi’s body had stopped only a few inches from the figment in front of him. His free hand reaching out to grasp at a lock of hair. To run his fingers through it and touch the silky strands that his eyes showed him were there. But his hands were only met with cold air. A breeze in the night against his still damp skin. With an exasperated hum, Levi retracted his fingers. Silently turning and moving his body toward his office chair and sitting down with a hard thump.

“Disappointed?” The figure questioned cheekily. Stepping to sit in the front facing chair directly across from Levi’s own. Their movements making no sounds and their voice barely audible enough for his overly tired ears to hear.

“Of course.” He murmured. Staring at the smiling face in front of him with honest regret and exhaustion.

His chest hurt terribly while his eyes burned with leashed tears and rapidly approaching sleep. He was losing his mind. He was sure of it, but his eyes had never failed him before. Not even in his deepest pits of exhaustion and not even when he silently begged a god he doesn’t believe in to let him see this face smiling at him one last time as he stared down at their pale, blood drained body.

The sadness and greif he felt as he peered into the glowing eyes of the other across from him matched the fear of them disappearing in his gut. His face remained as passive as ever, but emotion boiled over internally to the point of rising acidic bile in his throat as he leaned forward and rested his head against the cold slab of the desk.

“Sleep. I’ll stay.”

“You’re not even real.” He stated sharply. Reaching one hand out while placing the other under his head as a cushion.

“Of course I am. You can see me, can’t you?”

Levi remained quiet for a moment. Watching with hopeful, tired eyes as the figures hand reached over and met his own. Gracing his sense of touch with nothing but cold air yet again. A frown pulling at his lips and his brows furrowing while his ears rang acutely. His vision slowly but surely going dark, and the view of he and his lovers interlocking fingers slowly fading to black.

“Yeah.” He whispered. Sleep washing over him in a deep wave and pulling him under.

He trusted his eyes. He believed in the images they painted for him, even if they were hard to process or even accept. However, he didn’t trust his hands. Sometimes they would fail him, and leave him grasping at cold air instead of something solid and warm. Sometimes, they would let precious things slip from his grip and shatter into tiny pieces that would scatter to the wind.

But, most of the time, they would leave him yearning for a touch of warmth that he could no longer feel.


End file.
